Everlong
by PartyHardy
Summary: AU - Oliver and Felicity meet each other in school and become best friends. But in high school, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** AU - Oliver and Felicity meet each other in school and become best friends. But in high school, everything changes.

**Notes:** After a wonderful response to the first part posted in my one-shot collection, I decided to post the following parts in its own separate story. Everyone who read, reviewed and encouraged me to post this, thank you a whole bunch.

The story was originally written as a one-shot, but after writing the first part I ended up exploring what would happen if the story continued. What if Oliver ended up on the Gambit anyway, returned five years later and met Felicity again? This story deals with that.

Title comes from an amazing Foo Fighter's song.

* * *

Oliver Queen met his best friend when he was nine years old.

The opposite end of a schoolyard sandbox, with the sun in his eyes and a golden girl appearing in front of him.

"I'm looking for my marble," she said, shielding her eyes with a hand. "I was playing on the other side of the fence, and thought maybe it rolled over here…"

Oliver looked at the fence in the middle of the schoolyard. Just beneath the low edge of the wooden planks was a glint, one he'd stuck his feet into many times, but now there was nothing there but ground and air.

"I haven't seen any marbles," he told her, getting up off his knees. He brushed sand off his pants. "But I can help you look, if you'd like."

They searched around the fence, back to the sandbox, over to the swings and even the tree in the corner of the schoolyard, but no matter where they looked the marble was nowhere to be found.

After twenty minutes the bell rang out, shrill and clear. The pony-tailed girl shielded her eyes from the sun, looking anxiously at the other children running to the entrance. When he saw her unhappy expression, Oliver didn't think twice, didn't hesitate to pull out the pouch tied to the hook of his jeans. He dipped his hand into it and quickly produced a green marble.

"I know that it's not the one you're looking for, but… here." He handed her the marble. "You can have mine."

She hesitated. "You sure? You don't even know my name."

"I'm sure." He nodded, whisking blond bangs about. "And _my_ name is Oliver."

"I'm Felicity." She hesitated a moment, then quickly leaned forward and kissed Oliver on the cheek. "Thank you, Oliver."

He smiled like young summer. He liked the way she said his name, like a happy memory.

He heard Tommy shout at him in the background—it was time to go back in—but as Felicity ran across the schoolyard in her little red dress Oliver couldn't take his eyes off her.

He watched her run, thinking he just got his first kiss from the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

* * *

Over time, they became the kind of friends you live a lifetime never forgetting.

Oliver's oldest friend would always be Tommy, who, some times, tagged along with them. But more often than not Oliver and Felicity spent time together, just the two of them, making up games from their imagination. They came up with adventures, invisible dangers and enemies to defeat, turned playgrounds into landscapes and fortresses. Felicity fought next to Oliver against their imagined enemy and together they defeated mighty fantastic foes. Armed with fantasy and heart; two children against the world.

But they came from different worlds: Oliver lived in a mansion accessible only by a long driveway; Felicity lived two blocks away from school in a dilapidated apartment complex. Felicity's entire reason for living there was so she could attend that school, while Oliver attended because his parents forced him to. Oliver had a trust fund set up before he was born; Felicity kept her grades up in hope of a scholarship.

The differences didn't end there. When she wasn't in school or with Oliver, Felicity preferred putting herself up to small tasks, putting together old computers, or fixing ones she found for free in junk piles at backyard sales. Oliver didn't have that patience. When he wasn't with Felicity, he hung out with Tommy, test driving expensive radio controlled cars; in their teens they watched cheerleading practice or helped Robert fix plane engines.

But against all odds they still found ways to be together. The reason was simple: they felt better with each other than without. In the absence of parents with busy jobs, Oliver felt like someone _cared_ for him, and Felicity liked having someone around who reminded her she wasn't forgotten.

They grew through the years together, never far apart.

* * *

Everything changed in high school.

"Oliver, we need to talk."

In the bustling hallway, between rows of red and blue lockers, Felicity reached out and touched Oliver's arm. He paused, taking one look at her and signaled for Tommy to wait. They were juniors; she a freshman.

"We're on our way to the pep rally," Oliver told her. "Can't it wait?"

"No, it's…"

Tommy jogged over to them after winking at two passing cheerleaders. "Hey, Felicity. Is that a new smile you're wearing? Gorgeous, as always. I'm real sorry, but we have a team of cheerleaders who won't just applaud themselves. We'll miss—"

Felicity cut him off. "Oliver, I'm moving to Las Vegas."

Oliver blinked slowly. A disbelieving smile stretched his lips apart. "What…?"

"It's my mom," Felicity stammered. "The guy she's been seeing wants us to move to Las Vegas. He wants us to have a fresh start somewhere else, and…"

Oliver dismissed Tommy with a quick nod. "You go ahead. I'll catch up later."

Tommy slapped Oliver on the shoulder but his eyes were on Felicity. "I'm real sorry to hear about it, Felicity. We'll talk later."

She nodded, looking at the floor as Tommy jogged away. She felt absolutely_ sick_. Her arms dug into her sides; the only thing keeping her up. Oliver wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lead them away from the tumult of the hallway, filled with teenagers making their way to the sports hall.

He found them an empty spot in the stairs. Felicity leaned against the wall, still holding her arms tight around her body.

"When did she tell you?" Oliver asked, sitting on the third step.

"This morning," Felicity answered in a hollow voice Oliver had never heard from her before. "She claims it's the best thing for us as a family. But that's just it—she doesn't _understand_. Oliver, my dad walked out on us. I barely know what it's like having a family. And now this guy comes in and wants to change everything."

Oliver's hands balled into fists between his knees. "Have you told your mom you don't want to move? It's spring. Can't she wait until summer?"

"I know," she said sadly, "I _know_. I told her the same thing. But when she gets an idea, you can't convince her of anything else. She stops listening." Felicity let both hands drop. "Oliver, she doesn't get it. I have my life _here_. Everything I _like_, everything I don't want to leave… is right here."

Oliver felt sick to his stomach. He desperately wished there was something he could do, anything to make the situation better, change things, have her stay.

"Maybe I can talk to my mom," he offered. "Maybe she can talk to yours, convince her not to go…"

"Oliver, our moms have never _talked_."

"I just..." He sighed. "I'm trying to come up with something so you don't have to leave."

"She's made her mind up. We're going."

A thick silence wrapped around them. Oliver glanced out the window at the back of the stairs, where spring sunshine shone in thick rays on the ferns outside. It bothered him how everything out there went on as before, when inside the school, he felt his whole world changing.

"When do you move?" he asked carefully. Felicity left the wall and sat down next to him on the steps.

"Next Saturday."

Oliver felt her answer like a punch to the gut.

They sat there together, legs bent, elbows on knees. The whole school was gathered for the pep rally, but as far as either of them were concerned, it might as well have taken place in another world. Everything but_ them _felt far and distant.

Felicity slid, lying forward in her own lap and Oliver mimicked her, nudging his arm against hers. His eyes at her were soft, hers doleful.

"There's phone calls," he suggested. "Emails…"

"Oliver, it took you a week to figure out your Nokia 3310."

"Not everyone's a tech whiz."

He tried smiling, but seeing her face the charade fell. A warm spot in his chest grew heavy, a sinking heart skewed by reality.

"It will be alright, Felicity. I don't know how, but... somehow. It'll be alright." He put his arm around her shoulders.

She turned to him, cheek on arm. "We'll find a way."

* * *

When Oliver told his mother about the situation after supper, she was less forthcoming than he'd hoped. She seemed understanding of Felicity's mother, which wasn't what Oliver hoped for, at all.

"People move, Oliver," Moira said reasonably, leaving the dining room. "It happens all the time."

He hurried, following her through the long hallway. "_We've_ never moved."

"And I hope we never have to, but… some times, life changes. Life takes you elsewhere and you have to follow where it leads. Sounds to me like that's what Felicity's mother is doing."

Moira stopped near the stairs when she noticed Oliver slow after. She looked at her son standing there, appearing so _small_ against the tall walls, the sight clawing at something deep inside her. She never wanted to see her children in pain, ever. She would do anything to protect them.

"Oh, honey… you really like this girl, don't you?" She lead Oliver over to the stairs.

"She's my best friend," Oliver said sadly, sitting down next to his mother on the steps.

Moira paused. "I thought Tommy was your best friend."

"No, he's my _oldest _friend. Felicity… she's something else."

"She certainly sounds like it..." Moira rubbed her hand across her son's back. "Oliver, dear. It will be alright. It's going to hurt now, for a little while. But with time, it's going to hurt less and less. Life goes on. You'll see."

Oliver pressed his lips together and tried pushing the tight feeling in his chest deeper down inside, to a place he could no longer feel it. But it was like pressing down reality; sooner or later, it always catches up with you.

He didn't doubt his mother believed her own words, but _he _had a harder time believing them. That life went on... it didn't seem right.

It was difficult understanding how when the best part of his life was ending.

* * *

Oliver was seventeen when he watched his best friend leave for another city, thinking he might never see her again.

He arrived outside her apartment building the same day she left. Ran to the back of the building, threw rocks at her window; she told her mother she was getting some fresh air and met him outside.

He was in jeans and a pale blue t-shirt, looking like a summer's son; she in a pale pink dress that moved along her body like wind.

"Hey you," she said bittersweetly.

"Hey yourself," he returned. Then, quietly, "Hey. Let's head to the back."

The swings behind the building were hardly ever used; the rickety iron squeaked when they sat down on them. The mild spring weather wafted of early blossom. It was only the two of them around, two teenagers learning about the limits of forever, trying to say goodbye to each other.

"I got you something." Oliver brought out an old but familiar pouch.

Felicity's face warmed, lips curling up. "Is that…"

Oliver's smile started low but gradually turned into a grin as he produced a green marble from the pouch. Carefully, he placed it in Felicity's hand. She looked at him and smiled like a dream.

"Thought it was fitting," he said, hoping it didn't come out sheepish. "Considering it's how we met, and…"

"This isn't goodbye," Felicity blurted. Her eyes at him were very white. "I mean, I know it _is_. I know we're both here right now because I'm moving to another city and we might never see each other again… but this isn't _final._ We're both still young and…" Her words faded. "Sorry. Talking too much always catches up with me."

"_Hey_."

He waited until she looked at him, then held onto her gaze like a flock of stars.

"Don't ever say you're sorry for the way you talk. Okay? It's what makes you _you_. And who you are, is... you're amazing." His eyes shivered and his words trembled out of him. "I'm so glad I met you, Felicity. I don't know what my life would be like without you. It sure as hell wouldn't be the same—and I wouldn't be, either."

Felicity closed her hand tightly around the green marble, letting his words sink into her like deep waves.

One hand on the swing, she leaned over and gently put her lips on Oliver's.

It was a soft kiss; asking, searching, finding. Their lips parted and two pair of eyes, different shades of blue, searched each other.

Neither could stop smiling.

"That's my first kiss," she admitted shyly, cheeks the color of strawberries.

Oliver proudly smiled. "I'm happy to be your first kiss, Felicity Smoak."

That first day in the sandbox, they never found Felicity's green marble. But they found something much greater than that.

A friendship that would last a lifetime.


	2. Chapter 2

**II.**

Felicity Smoak started working for Queen Consolidated three years after Oliver Queen went missing on the Gambit.

Returning to Starling City came with equal amounts of excitement and trepidation. She looked forward to catching up with the city and people she left behind, finding out exactly how much had changed in eleven years, but there were things—missing things—she was absolutely terrified of returning to.

But she did what she'd done her whole life: faced her fears head on.

Packed her bags and moved. Went about the whole thing sensibly. Tried not thinking about everything she was returning to that was no longer there.

Like blue-eyed boys on backyard swings with summer smiles.

Throughout the years she'd kept up with the tabloids. Learned that the Oliver she knew wasn't who he became without her. But she wasn't all the same, either, made from the same stuff she was born with, but with added years and experiences that made her something more. And that was why she never moralized over what she read about Oliver's life after her; she accepted they turned into different people over time.

A long time.

She had gone back to Starling City once.

For his funeral.

Standing at the back of the crowd, she watched his mother and sister bury their son and brother. After the procession was over, Felicity wanted to go up and say something to them, but so many people swarmed up to them, people who know them better, had known them longer. And she…

Felicity hadn't seen Oliver for six years. Known him when they were both younger and different people.

So instead she remained at the back, waiting until the crowd was gone, until she was left alone with the tombstone belonging to her childhood's best friend.

"Hey, you," she said bittersweetly.

In her mind she heard his comeback, a voice through time.

"Told you it wasn't goodbye. I know you're not here… but I like to think you can hear me, anyway."

The wind did not move the trees and the birds were silent; everything around her was peaceful. She cried at the procession, but now a strange calm had found her and the words were easy to speak. She thought of the missing years between them, how different their lives had been, what she would have said to the 'Hard Partying Billionaire Playboy' now.

But all she could think of was a boy with blue eyes and the sweetest smile she'd ever seen.

"I wasn't here," she said calmly. "I don't know the choices you were faced with. So, no judging. But if I could change something?" Her voice dropped. "I wish I had come back. I wish I could have seen you, before you tried going to college… any of the times, really. And that's on me. Not coming back, not seeing you again—that's my mistake. I like to think that, if I were here… maybe I could have helped you find another way." Her breath shuddered out of her. "But we all make choices. I guess I have to live with mine. I only wish you still had ones to live for, too."

Felicity knelt beside the tombstone, the words on it from now on entrenched in her mental catacombs. The wind gently stroked her face, and for a moment she closed her eyes, pretending she wasn't alone. That the whispering wind was the presence of someone she _knew_.

"I'm sorry it took me this long to come back, Oliver." She blinked back the sting of tears. "Hey. Maybe we'll see each other in another life. I'll be the girl missing a green marble and you'll be the boy holding one. Look for me in that life, Oliver. I'll meet you there."

She touched the green marble in her coat pocket. She had planned to lay it down, bury it in the earth next to his stone, but… she couldn't bring herself to do it.

One last piece of what they were she couldn't let go of.

Instead, Felicity swept her hand across the tombstone, stood, looked back once but no more and walked away.

* * *

When she returned to Cambridge, Felicity thought she had left Starling City for good. But then she graduated, a year early with honors, and going over the job offers she received going back to Starling City felt right. It all boiled down to making a sensible decision; Queen Consolidated's offer really was the best.

So she accepted, packed her bags and kept looking forward.

She quickly found a place in the IT Department. In a few months she was already taking on tasks her colleagues worked on for years, helped develop a new accounting information software, picking up her supervisor's slack on the side. Found an affordable townhouse that made her heart _hum_ the first time she stepped into it, went out for drinks every now and then with a small group of friends from the office.

She worked hard, tried establishing a life outside work all the while pressing back the stubborn feeling life could be something _more_.

Felicity went on living her life the way she planned since the day she discovered the limit of forever and the eternal strength of goodbyes.

* * *

Back in high school, Tommy had a hard time watching how Felicity leaving affected Oliver. When he saw how sad Oliver was after she left, still sad, weeks after, he finally couldn't take it anymore.

At the end of a school day, Tommy wrapped his arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"Buddy, listen to me. If you keep this up your shoulders are going to stick like that. Sagged down like an old man. And that frown of yours? Not going to help you get laid." He smiled widely. "Though, on one hand, it leaves all the more ladies for me…"

"The fact I'm not listening is a direct consequence of the bullshit you're spewing, Tommy." Oliver passed around the hallway corner to the school's exit, an old wooden entrance set between marble walls.

"My point is…" Tommy jogged after him, stopping him with a hand to his shoulder. "I have an idea. You've been moping around way too long, but, lucky for you, I got just the remedy." The smile returned. "Friday night, party at Spencer's. You, me, tons of free alcohol and a bunch of pretty girls who know what your last name means in this city. What do you say?"

Oliver stood very still. He watched people pass them in and out the school entrance. Ever since Felicity left, he'd felt disconnected from the world everyone else seemed to move in, the world where hearts ached and friends left and everything else went on as before.

And maybe that was it. The other people, the happy ones… they made a choice to let life continue. To carry on.

And maybe what_ he_ needed was something new to take his mind off what he'd lost.

He took a deep breath and said, "Okay."

Tommy beamed. "Okay?"

Oliver nodded. Tommy slammed him twice on the chest, shouting his excitement out in a _woo!_ that had three girls jumping back. He brought that smile with them as he pulled Oliver out the door, unable to shut up about how awesome this would be, how it was _just_ what Oliver needed, that they'd have the time of their lives. The world was theirs for the taking; all they had to do was grab their slice.

So Oliver followed Tommy into a world that welcomed the young, handsome son of a billionaire with open arms.

* * *

Oliver met Laurel Lance at a high school party.

Sitting in a couch, surrounded by friends more into the rowdy conversation than her, she caught his eye ten minutes into the party. He recognized her from previous parties, in the way you know someone's name and who they hang out with, without actually knowing anything about the person. He _did_ know she was striking, the kind of girl who didn't need to adorn herself to stand out in a room. He still remembered being fascinated by the way, when she opened her mouth to say something, everyone listened. He'd seen that quality in his Mother, the kind of intrinsic authority that didn't need to raise its voice to be heard.

He swept up to her when some of her friends went to grab more to drink. "I'm sorry… I just had to come up here and tell you what a gorgeous smile you have."

Laurel smiled, letting out a breath. "Are you serious? That's your come-on line?"

"Yeah…" Insecurity swept into Oliver, tying his stomach in knots.

(He would come to feel that way around her a lot, through the years, but at first meet brushed it up to not being used to high school girls not going along with, well, whatever he said.)

"But, you do," he added insistently.

"I do what?"

"Have a gorgeous smile."

Laurel stood from the couch, shaking her head. The only thing telling Oliver he wasn't heading for a straight nosedive was the way the corner of Laurel's lips kept pulling up.

"Listen," she said, "this is really not my scene. I'm only here because the person who is throwing this party's in my study group."

"So you're saying parties aren't your typical scene."

Laurel scoffed. "Most certainly not."

"So how about you let me buy you dinner instead?" Oliver put on one of his best charming smiles. "I promise, no party people present."

"Except, _you _will be there."

Oliver smiled. "Is that a no?"

Laurel looked at him for several seconds, eyes sparkling, before she eventually softened.

"How about lunch," she suggested. "The day after tomorrow. How about the bistro on the corner of 21st and 7th?"

"Alright," Oliver nodded. "Lunch."

One of Laurel's friends came up to her, pulling her along with her out onto the patio. Oliver watched her go, liking what he saw. She didn't act or talk like a high school girl and there was something very appealing about that.

He kept watching her talk to her friends outside, until Tommy crashed into him and pulled him over to a beer pong contest.

* * *

Laurel and Oliver fell into a relationship. Lunch lead to dinner, dinner lead to discovering each other, including finding out early on they were both good kissers. They explored that, in and out of dorm rooms, couches, beds. Laurel was the first girl Oliver brought home. Moira approved of her, saying Laurel was just the kind of girl Oliver needed. And for a long time, Oliver made himself believe that was true.

But when Laurel began college, things changed.

Oliver enjoyed partying more than studying. He also enjoyed partying more than spending time with his girlfriend, so when, after he showed up at her door in the middle of the night for the umpteenth time—clawing his way into her bathroom only to spew his guts out—Laurel broke up with him.

They went through this pattern. A lot.

They broke up, he begged her to forgive him, telling her this time he'd change. They would get back together, but it was never long before he screwed up again, and again they fought, got back together…

But during one of their break ups, something happened that would come to change the way they broke up and got back together definitely.

Laurel was at the local college bar with her study-group.

At the same bar was Tommy.

At the end of the night, Tommy offered to drive Laurel home and she could think of no reason to say no. He followed her to the door and Laurel invited him in. They talked about Laurel's studies, Tommy told her about his latest argument with his father, and, without thinking, and because it made _sense_, they moved into each other's arms. Into each other's embrace, Laurel's bed…

Tommy returned to Laurel's dorm the day after, to apologize. They talked, she offered him a glass of wine and it wasn't long before wine lead to something else, something _more._

They ended up together again, kept ending up together, for weeks turning into months.

Oliver's reaction when he found out was less loaded than what either Laurel or Tommy anticipated.

He looked between the two, armed to defend themselves against the verbal breakout they anticipated. But he gave them no such thing. Instead, he pressed his lips together, nodded once, and looked anywhere but at them.

"Okay," he said.

Laurel and Tommy looked at each other worriedly. That was not how either had expected it to go. Both watched Oliver smile and ask them if they felt like burgers or sushi, and exchanged a look before eventually following him out into the awaiting car.

It wasn't that Oliver didn't care. He _would_ care.

But in that moment he was distracted by something else.

His mother had put an ultimatum on him the day before. He barely remembered what started their argument, all he knew was it ended with her demanding that he either applied to one or all of the colleges she'd printed out forms for, or he started shadowing his father at work. If he refused either, he could find somewhere else to live.

So the realization that his ex-girlfriend was now hooking up with his best friend didn't fully hit him until the evening.

In a bar, downtown Starling City, surrounded by a group of eager young women and the world at his disposal, Oliver fished his phone out of his pocket to call and ask Tommy where the hell he was, when it hit him.

He probably was with Laurel.

Watching a movie, eating dinner somewhere, whatever it was boy and girlfriends _did_. Or, something else, he most definitely did _not_ want to be thinking about…

His best friend and ex-girlfriend. _Ouch_.

Oliver spent the rest of that night in an alcohol-induced haze. He wouldn't remember much, save for not waking up alone, in a hotel room where half the furniture had been turned upside down during the night, with wind drifting in through a hole in the window the TV had been thrown out of hours before, a banging headache to match.

It still hurt less than picturing Tommy and Laurel together.

Oliver tried closing his mind's eye as he got into the shower to rinse the night's activities from his body, but in trying to empty his mind from the present the past started seeping through.

In his mind's canvas a particular pair of blue eyes drifted through time and memory.

His heart _ached_.

He wondered what Felicity was up to.

Oliver opened in his eyes under the running hot water, placing both hands on the wall in front of him. He knew, even with the distance of years between them, that Felicity would have told him not to be angry at Tommy and Laurel. She would have told him to be understanding of people finding pieces of themselves in others, and not to blame them.

He clenched his fist. He wanted to see her so badly; he could taste it. It had been years, he didn't even have her number anymore… but there were other ways of seeing her.

* * *

That evening he apprehended his mother after supper by asking if he could borrow the family plane.

Moira stopped, looking at her son sternly. "Where on earth are you going?"

"I need to go to Las Vegas."

He didn't realize how it sounded until the words left his mouth. Scrambling, he intended to elucidate, but his mother held up a hand, dismissing him.

"No, Oliver. I am not allowing you to take the family plane to… _entertain_ yourself with a weekend of fun in Las Vegas. Absolutely not."

Moira started walking away, but Oliver jogged after her.

"Mom, it's not what you think, I swear. I—"

Moira stopped in the hallway. "You know what I think, Oliver? I think it would do you well to remember the conversation we had in this very house. You need to think of your future—your career. It's time you found your place in this world." Moira's eyes were firm, her expression set. "I told you, I'm giving you two months to figure out what college you want to apply to. Considering everything that is quite generous of me."

"Mom, I…"

"This discussion is over. Two months, Oliver. Then I want the application on my desk. Or you can find somewhere else to live—and a new way of supporting yourself."

Oliver remained in the hallway, watching his mother walk away, experiencing the familiar feeling of his world changing again.

* * *

Oliver never went to Las Vegas. He stayed in Starling City, continued to go out drinking at night, meeting Tommy when he could, hooking up with the occasional girl when he felt like it. Distractions were easy to come by.

As the end of those two months drew near, Oliver discovered his father was going on a business trip to China. Oliver asked if he could go with him, and at first Robert was hesitant to say yes given the clandestine reason for the trip. But when Oliver told him he wanted to learn more about the family business, Robert finally agreed.

The day they were set to take off on the Queen's Gambit, Laurel came to see Oliver.

She found him down in the harbor, with the midday sun a glorious blinding light in the sky. Oliver was lifting things from their car onto the yacht when he spotted Laurel walking up to the car, walking elegance wrapped in a beige coat and a timid smile.

"Hi, Oliver," she greeted, approaching him.

"Hey." Oliver put down the suitcase and looked around. "Where's Tommy?"

"As unlikely as it sounds, Tommy's on a trip with his father. Actually… he's what I've come here to talk to you about."

"Alright," Oliver chuckled briefly, leaning his elbows on the hood of his father's car.

Laurel drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. The light in her eyes was clear and steady.

"Ollie, I love Tommy. He's kind, he's good… and I like who I am when I'm with him. And, I… I want us to be together for a long time. I see a life for us together after I've finished law school."

Oliver nodded. "That's great. I'm happy for you. But I don't see why you came here to announce this to me…?"

Truth was, Oliver didn't know how he felt about it, but he knew how to put his game face on.

Laurel shifted. "Because you and I have history. And I want to make sure we're both on the clear that what happened between us in school, and after, is that. History."

Oliver's expression settled into something detached and firm. "I appreciate you coming here Laurel, but. Yeah. I'm definitely on the clear on that."

"Good." Laurel swept a look past him, to the boastful yacht. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Tommy's not the only one going with his dad on a business trip." Oliver took a deep breath of briny harbor air, trying to ease the tension out of his body.

Laurel squinted a little. "Tommy's in Tibet right now. Malcolm brought him along for some kind of business. I know it's out of the ordinary—Tommy and business—but Malcolm threatened to cut him off completely if he didn't come with him and at least _tried_."

"Sounds like his and my parents are in cahoots," Oliver said dejectedly.

A short moment passed. Oliver looked past his shoulder, out to the harbor water where sunlight cast glittering specks of light on the water surface.

He turned to Laurel. "Hey. You want to catch a ride with us?"

"What?" she uttered in a short breath. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

Laurel's lips pressed into a line. "Ollie, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"

"Come on. We're going to China anyway. It's what, two countries away? Look, I'm sure my dad could help us charter a plane. We could both fly in and surprise Tommy, then I'll fly back and rejoin my dad before he leaves China. You and Tommy might get to do a day of Tibetan sightseeing." Oliver smiled easily. "We both know Tommy loves surprises. Aren't you on summer break, anyway?"

"I am, but my internship starts in four weeks and I have a lot to prepare…"

"Laurel, if I ever knew anything about you, everything you need to prepare is already prepared. You can come with me and my dad, surprise Tommy _and_ be back in time to start your internship."

Behind them on the yacht, Robert came up on deck. He shielded his eyes with a hand and then waved to Laurel, who waved back. Oliver turned.

"Look," Oliver said to Laurel. "We're leaving in an hour, so either come with me or… forever hold your peace."

"That's _marriage_, Oliver. Not practice of law."

"Yeah," Oliver said, shaking his head. "Not that different if you ask me."

Laurel hesitated. She bit her lower lip, the way Oliver recognized her doing when he had made her one of his many, _many_ suggestions to do something else that didn't involve them studying. Finally she nodded.

"Alright. But I'm only doing this to see Tommy. Are we clear on that?"

"Crystal."

Laurel got into her car. Oliver remained at the edge of the dock, white sunlight silhouetting him from behind.

Robert came up on his son's right after Laurel drove away.

"I thought you two had broken up," Robert said.

"We did," Oliver nodded.

Robert observed his son a moment, before laying his hand on his shoulder. "Be careful, Oliver."

"Always am, Dad."

Robert only snorted in reply before heading onto what would be the last voyage of the Queen's Gambit.

* * *

Oliver remembered the Gambit going under in fragments.

He remembered reaching for Laurel's hand, watching her get sucked into the wild water and wondering if he could go after her, if he could find her, save her…

He remembered the sound of water hitting the boat and how, even though everything was so damned _loud_, he could still hear his heartbeat slamming between his ears.

He remembered cold water, how he couldn't feel his fingertips.

He remembered _fear_.

The fragmented pieces put together formed the nightmare that changed Oliver's life forever.

* * *

Felicity ran into Tommy a couple of times after moving back to Starling City.

The first time was at a coffee shop two blocks away from QC, the same coffee shop Felicity liked getting her coffee from on her way to work. Huddled in the corner with his arm around a long-legged beauty, Felicity probably wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't come up to her.

"Felicity Smoak? I'll be damned. Is that you?"

She recognized him immediately. Tommy didn't look that different now, only more adult; a boy grown into his body. He still had the same early-morning bags beneath his eyes as he did when they were teens. Considering the time and the girl he was with, Felicity figured he probably hadn't slept yet.

"Hey, Tommy," Felicity smiled, standing to the side of the line with her coffee.

"Wow, I haven't seen you since… what, senior year?"

"Junior, actually. You and Oliver were juniors, I was a freshman."

"Oh, right. Still sharp as a stick. And still pretty, too."

He looked her up and down, but in a disarming way, a look that says you were never my girl but I can still appreciate what I see. Felicity didn't think twice about it.

Tommy motioned to the back corner of the coffee shop. "I'm with…" His tongue ran along his lower lip, eyebrows lifting, confused. "I'm pretty sure her name's Tyra. Or Tina. Something like that."

"Hey," Felicity said positively, "at least you're no longing chasing cheerleaders."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. You'd be surprised how grateful the Starling City Rockets are when you throw them a party after making it to play-offs."

Felicity laughed a little.

"So," Tommy asked, moving his feet. "What brings you back to Starling?"

"I actually started working at QC," she answered, shifting the hold on the mug. "They offered me a job after college, and honestly, it was the best offer I got. No offense to Merlyn Global."

"None taken," Tommy said airily. "Starling changed much since you left?"

Felicity was hesitant to look at him; both of them thinking the same thing.

The biggest change wasn't what was there but what was _not._

Even though their lives were very different in high school, for a moment the two of them met in the present on common ground. They had both lost a friend. But Felicity wasn't _there_, and that sting silenced her.

Tommy shifted his feet, running a hand down his face. "You'd think after all this time I ought to know better than putting my foot where my mouth is. Even designer shoes don't taste that good."

"I'll keep that in mind," Felicity said, trying to smile.

The edge of the shared sadness shone through them, had Felicity refrain from asking Tommy more. The time would come when she'd be able to speak to him about it, but now, seven in the morning in a coffee shop, Tommy with a date-of-the-day in waiting, was not that time.

Instead she offered him a one-sided smile, touching his arm. "I'll see you around, Tommy."

He watched her walk out the coffee shop, remembering something Robert told him years ago on the anniversary of his mother's death.

He said that the people who weren't there anymore lived on with you for as long as you remembered them. Ghost memories, he'd called it.

What no one ever told him was that some times ghosts came back.

* * *

**Notes:** A lot of backstory in this part... but the next one takes place in Starling City, present day, and may feature a reunion. It should be up at the start of next week.

Again, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**III. **

The day Oliver Queen's survival was announced on the news was not the day Felicity's world changed.

In fact, when Oliver returned it took a month before Felicity saw him.

She figured, so many people wanted to see him. He had a family, a mother and sister who got their son and brother back. A friend who _hadn't _left Starling City. He needed time to return, find home again, get used to city life… a life that no longer included her. Hadn't, for years.

He didn't even know she was back in Starling City, and he certainly didn't know she was working for his family's company.

Truth was, she wasn't sure how to feel about meeting him again. Scared, excited, dreading it; all of that. She looked at images of him from the news, trying to adjust herself to _seeing_ him again, to placate the violent pang of first meeting. In the end it only added trepidation, until, finally, Felicity told herself to stop. Enough. It would all work out somehow, but until then she had work to do and a job to take care of.

It was a convincing distraction.

But the years they spent apart came with weight, a weight Felicity carried with her every day for a month. She never stopped thinking about meeting him again; what it would be like.

She was about to find out.

* * *

Oliver met his childhood friend on a bleary-weathered Tuesday, shot-up laptop stuck between his arm and side, walking into the IT Department looking for someone to help him.

He stopped in the entrance, looking out across the large room of computer-decorated cubicles. He didn't know who to ask, figured anyone would do.

It didn't even take him a minute to discover how wrong he was.

He walked up to a man in a pin-striped shirt as a group of people passed them.

"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen." He smiled pleasantly. "I'm looking for…"

His eyes skipped to the group of people; his heart skipped a beat.

Years, distance, none of that mattered. He'd have recognized that ponytail anywhere.

"Felicity?"

The woman in the pencil skirt stopped. She stood very still, before slowly turning. Her eyes were clear and bright, her barely contained surprise clearer than her lipstick.

Oliver watched her say something to the girl next to her, his heart drumming up a strong melody in his chest as she made her way over to him. He met her halfway.

"Felicity…"

His voice was deeper, stronger than she remembered it. But he still said her name exactly the same.

"Hey, you," she said cautiously, her first words to him in eleven years.

"Hey yourself."

Smiles broke out on their faces like summer meeting sunshine. Oliver's heartbeat formed a pressure in his chest, stifling his breath - he had forgotten this feeling, the ground turning to clouds beneath his feet.

But he never forgot that smile.

Felicity's thoughts _raced_. Of all the things she wished she could have said she blurted, "How you been?"

"Supposedly dead. You?"

"Alive."

Oliver nodded, eyes sparkling. "Nice."

There was so much they wanted to say that everything got _stuck_. Both stood there, waiting for the other to say something, anything, aware neither had a clue what to say.

Oliver looked at the tag around her neck. "You work here…?" he asked, astounded.

She nodded. "Two years, now." She pushed back strands of hair behind her ear, then indicated past herself, down the hallway. "I don't have an office, but my desk's right down there…"

Oliver followed her down the hallway, trying to find solid ground beneath his feet again.

They both sat down in her cubicle, trying to ignore the feeling they were doing this all _wrong_. Oliver wanted to reach out to her – even though he didn't like touching people or being touched, this was a necessary touch – to reassure himself this wasn't some dream, that she was part of the reality he returned to.

Felicity didn't know what to do either. What did you do when someone came back from the dead? Hug them? Poke them to make sure they really weren't walking ghosts, _very_ convincing at this whole being-human-thing?

No. All she needed was to look into those troubled eyes, shadowed, like he hid himself deep down beneath his own mire, to know he was still there. Whatever happened to him, what he'd gone through, there was still a part of him left she _knew_.

The rest she would come to understand.

Felicity used the laptop in Oliver's lap as an icebreaker. "What have you got there?"

He blinked, looking down at the laptop he all but forgot about, blinded by meeting her again.

"It's… a laptop."

"I can see that." She leaned her face to the side, eyebrows slightly together. "Why is your laptop riddled with bullet holes?"

Oliver opened his mouth, but… nothing.

He'd planned this. A story about a coffee shop and a spilled latte, but sitting there, Oliver looked into the eyes of Felicity Smoak knowing there was no way he could use that story on her. Years had passed, _lives_, but he still couldn't lie to her. So he took a deep breath and met her eyes, as steady as he could.

Then his gaze faltered.

"Let's forget about the laptop," he said dismissively. "I'd rather talk about how you ended up here." He looked around the cubicle, noticing her grey iPod, the red and pink pencils in a white cup. "I can't believe you're working here."

Felicity hummed. "I can't believe you just walked into the IT Department with a shot-up laptop."

Oliver blinked. Eleven years and still calling him on his shit.

_How he'd missed that._

Felicity waited him out. When he raised his gaze, she held on to it. Clear eyes, steady voice.

"Oliver, I'm not stupid. I know we haven't seen each other in a long, long time, but… you have to remember that about me. I understand that whatever happened to that laptop didn't happen under… safe circumstances. Probably not entirely _legal _circumstances, either."

"I…"

"You clearly came here looking for someone to help you. And…" She held her hands out, indicating to herself. "I'm your girl."

No matter how many reasons Oliver could think of why he didn't want her involved with this, no matter what the Bratva Captain, the lone survivor on the island; no matter what any of them told him to do, he was also acutely aware that the people in his life he could trust were fewer than the fingers on his hand.

So he accepted her help.

Felicity hooked the laptop to her computer, got him the information he needed. Blueprints, Warren Patel. Information that felt like an exchange for a conversation they should have been having.

Oliver felt awful. He was grateful for her help, it wasn't that, but felt he received it at the cost of something he wasn't entirely sure he was willing to pay.

After he placed the laptop away, he took two deep breaths and met her eyes, pushing through the slow burning sting in his chest.

"Felicity. At a better time I'll tell you about all of this..."

She smiled one-sided. "Timing's never really been our thing, has it. If it's not decisions made by our parents, it's schoolyard bells."

He chuckled for a second, a bit emptier than she remembered, less heart. But there was a familiar glint in his eyes when he looked at her.

"It feels really good seeing you again," he said softly.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I know what you mean."

He smiled and again the feeling returned, like his heart was beating a melody he should listen to.

So he did.

"Hey," he said, a bit lighter now. "Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

She was closing programs on her computer, so it took a moment before Felicity turned around and looked at him.

"Sure. I'd like that. Except, I'm working and only have an hour…"

"So how about I bring something here?" His eyes flickered up and down. "You still like Pad Thai?"

Her eyes danced with light. "Still love it."

He stood. "Then, tomorrow. Lunch, here. Pad Thai."

"It's a date. I mean, not a _date_ date, just. You know. We'll see each other again."

Oliver nodded. He liked the sound of that.

He leaned down and put his hand on her shoulder, pressing gently. Her eyes up at him vibrated; she covered his hand with her own. The concept of time vanished.

Fire bit at his frost-covered heart. Both knew the same thing.

That the heart of friends don't forget each other.

* * *

There was another person Oliver hadn't seen since coming home.

His oldest friend.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Oliver called Tommy, at his house, at his job at Merlyn Global. No answer. He managed to get hold of a secretary who told him she'd pass along Oliver's message, but after the fourth time Oliver accepted the only place his message ended up was the trash can.

So after being home a month Oliver got on his motorcycle and drove to Merlyn Mansion.

A member of the household staff Oliver didn't remember let him in, telling him Tommy was in his father's study. Oliver wandered the long hallways out of memory, feeling like a ghost revisiting old haunts. Nothing had changed that he could remember.

He knocked on the study's door and saw Tommy inside, on the phone. Tommy turned and held up a hand to tell him to wait, but when he saw who stood in the doorway his knuckles firmly tightened around the phone. His eyes widened and hardened.

"I'm going to have to call you back," Tommy said into the phone, slowly lowering it next to him.

"Hi Tommy," Oliver said, keeping his tone light.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

"Thought I'd see an old friend. It's not every day you come back from the dead."

Tommy's eyes remained cold and hard. "Don't you think if I wanted to see you I would have already?"

Oliver clenched his jaw. He'd heard about it, of course. How the story of his death had been told in the media. He knew exactly what Tommy had been left to assume.

The news reports in the wake of their disappearance hadn't helped. Channels reported on the declared dead Robert and Oliver Queen, but also law-student Laurel Lance, ex-girlfriend of the younger Queen. The gossip wrote itself. How Oliver supposedly brought Laurel along on the Gambit for a licentious trip to rekindle an old, never burn-out flame. After coming back Oliver found out through research and through Thea, how the media spun the story beyond control. Eventually the circus was replaced with other news, but the damage was already done.

Tommy had lived for five years thinking his girlfriend and best friend died together cheating on him.

Oliver walked into the study on even, measured steps. The room was made up with bookshelves for walls, all but the one behind the desk, and everything smelled like old paper and forgotten cigars. Daylight streamed in from the tall windows behind the desk; outside was a view of the Mansion's park. Oliver didn't think he'd ever been in here, in this room, in their youth.

"It's nice to see you working," Oliver said, meaning it. "Did you keep shadowing your dad?"

Tommy licked his lower lip, rubbed his hand across his mouth. "Yeah. I took a break after you died, but picked it back up."

Oliver looked around the office. "Where's Malcolm?"

Tommy shrugged. "Who knows. China. India. Some country that's unlucky to have him."

"I can't imagine he's giving them an easy time if it's business."

Oliver smiled, trying for lightness. In that moment, it didn't feel like it had been so long since they saw each other, didn't feel like they no longer were who they'd been when their lives split violently apart. Suddenly Oliver clearly remembered loud clubs, ear-deafening music and enough free alcohol to kill two or ten livers.

But then something changed. A shadow passed Tommy's eyes and Oliver watched the shift; how all of him stiffened, unable to congeal what kept them apart for so many years.

Oliver wanted to explain, tell him how sorry he was for what happened, _the way_ it happened, but in the race to say something Tommy beat him.

Tommy's face lowered. "You," he said venomously. "Don't think you can come here and act like everything is like it was. We were friends—great friends, wingmans forever, or at least that's what I thought—but friends don't go behind each other's back and sleep with your girlfriend!"

Oliver felt like he'd been struck. His fingers started rolling against his thumb; the only thing keeping him calm.

"Tommy… you need to hear how it happened. What really happened."

"I know what happened, alright." Tommy strode over to Oliver. "You got _my_ girlfriend onto that damned yacht that killed you."

Oliver shook his head; Tommy had it all wrong.

"Hey _Ollie_, tell me something. How long had you two been sleeping together behind my back?"

Oliver's jaw unclenched. "Damn it, Tommy, that's _not _how it happened." He fixed his eyes with Tommy's. "Laurel went on the boat to see _you_. Do you hear me? It was never about me. She was in love with_ you_."

Tommy scoffed. "Coming from you Ollie, that might actually have meant something... if she wasn't dead."

He pushed past Oliver, stopping in the entrance. Looking back at Oliver, his eyes were filled with a hurt, angry shadow.

"You killed the love of my life. Get the hell out of my house. And while you're at it—get the hell out of my life, too."

Tommy walked away, leaving Oliver in the study, a storm of emotions.

* * *

Over the following weeks, Oliver meeting up with Felicity.

Once or twice a week for lunch, dinner, whatever Felicity could fit into her schedule. When her workweek was particularly busy, Oliver would buy them lunch on the go and bring it to her office, sharing it by her desk over stories of catching up. She tried filling him in on what he missed in news and entertainment; Oliver usurped it all eagerly. Maybe it was less an interest in media and more because he liked listening to the sound of her voice, the sound of someone who knew him before he became the playboy billionaire; who knew the young boy with a fear of spiders who perpetually missed parents who were there but still unavailable.

The fear of spiders had since gone away, but other things remained.

Like the way he felt when she made him laugh; the frost inside him melted every time.

They were less inseparable now than as children, but the feeling was still there. That years could go by and they still remained the same with each other.

There were differences, however. Stark ones. Felicity noticed an edge in Oliver, a shade that appeared in his eyes like a midday shadow. His smiles didn't last as long as they used to. Unless it was just the two of them in a familiar place, and even then, his eyes roamed around, always searching for an invisible enemy. She didn't comment on it. Figured it was a consequence of five years spent on a remote island, years she didn't make him talk about. She reasoned he would bring it up when he was ready to share that part of himself, if that time ever came at all. She was content having an old friend back in a big, lonely city…

… a city that had started to change.

Starling City saw the first appearance of the Vigilante a month and a half earlier.

Felicity read about him on the web, heard about him on the news, but didn't make much of him. Probably just another criminal with a get-up he thought was cool and ridiculous gadgets to boot. (Seriously, she thought, _a bow? _Really?) She heard about the deaths he left in his wake, but dismissed them as crimes, putting the thought out of her mind and focusing on more important things.

Like work at Queen Consolidated and lunch dates that became her favorite part of the week.

It wasn't as easy as picking up where they left off. They both knew they couldn't go back to who they were; they were both different people. But they could try to get to know each other as who they were now: Oliver, after his island experience, Felicity after Las Vegas and MIT, and both of them back in Starling City.

It was a fresh start with history that _tried _because one thing remained since their youth: they felt better with each other than without.

* * *

One night, Felicity called him.

"Hi."

"Hey." His eyes narrowed on the other end; worry washed into him like cold acid. He quickly sat up in bed in his old room in the Mansion, the cover dropping and revealing naked fear on his face.

"Listen. I know it might be weird with a phone call, but..." She took a new breath. "All those years in high school, all the years after... either of us could have picked up the phone. But I never did. And I didn't want to make the same mistake again."

"That's alright," he said, but there was a pain in what he said he needed to address. "I didn't either."

She breathed, like listening to a slow song.

"I could have called, too," he said earnestly. "It's not all on you, Felicity."

"I know. But I was the one who moved away."

"I could have come after you."

She smiled, sitting in a chair in her living room, next to a window. A reading lamp cast her in a soft glow.

"We were teenagers," she said sensibly, picking at a loose thread in her throw. "And it's not like we were seeing each other. I mean, _seeing_ seeing each other..."

"Some people thought we were."

She heard his smile on the other end of the line.

"_Some_ people just needed gossip. Come on, Oliver. You and me, that was kind of unthinkable."

He heard her chuckle on the other end of the line, smiling in automatic response but soon the feeling dropped away, like old rust.

"I had a crush on you," he admitted, springing the old truth into the telephone line, taking a deep breath to soak the blast and wait for the fallout.

It took a moment, then, "Really?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "Really. Tommy convinced me I was just mixing friendship and something else together, so I never said anything."

"Something else, huh. Remind me to send Tommy a Hallmark Thank You card."

He smiled on the other end; the thought of differences fleeting through unbidden. Things could have been so different. Maybe he would have gone to college, maybe he'd never partied all those years away - maybe if he'd made different choices he'd be without the island, without physical and mental scars that changed him forever.

Maybe he'd have gone with her. Maybe he would have loved it.

He heard her take a deep breath on the other end of the line, then her voice, quiet and careful.

"Would you have come to me? If I asked you?"

Oliver didn't even consider.

"In a heartbeat."

They held each other on the line for several long, silent moments. In those moments they were shot up pieces of satellites orbiting in the same sky, both wishing the other would land closer.

When Felicity eventually pointed out she was getting up early and they probably should hang up, Oliver hedged.

It was absolutely pathetic, but he felt like hugging his phone.

Hold it tight to his chest and never let go. But he knew he couldn't do that, not with the way things were. There was too much he kept from her, too much that needed to be told.

And, most important of all, he couldn't hold her unless she chose to be held. And that wasn't his choice to make.

So instead, he said, "Sleep well, Felicity."

And she whispered, "You too, Oliver. Good night."

* * *

The phone calls became a ritual.

Some times he called her before putting on his green hood, selfishly wanting to make hers the last voice he heard if anything went wrong out there, in the night. Some times the calls lasted two minutes, some times nearly an hour.

Some times he would call her when he couldn't sleep. He texted before, if she answered he called, and they would talk to each other until the line disconnected or he heard her fall asleep. He would hang on to the sound of her even breathing, imagining lying next to her, feeling her heartbeat slam against his chest.

Out on the streets, he was relentless as the Vigilante. But in his heart, the sound of her voice always echoed.

Every day he missed what they could have had together. That and the combined guilt of everything that happened after she left but before the island, with Tommy, Laurel, all of it, then the five years away from Starling City - enough guilt to make anyone implode.

Maybe that was why he kept hanging on to the anguish of missing Felicity and what they could have had, every day.

Even vigilantes needed fuel to keep them alive.

* * *

**Note:** The next part features a lot of Thea, maybe possibly with Felicity, and Oliver.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter summary:** Thea's in trouble and gets help from an unlikely place. Also, pancakes are involved.

(Because Arrow could always do with more Thea and Felicity.)

**Note: **There are several more parts of the story written; it has an idea where it's going and a destination. A big thank you to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing.

* * *

**IV.**

Driving home from a late evening at work, Felicity's gaze wandered out to the sidewalk.

One of Starling City's most popular night clubs, Azure, was located around the corner. The line started further down the street and went around the building; young people stood in the long uneven line, impatient to get in and have a good time…

But it looked like someone already had hers.

Felicity squinted. One girl in the crowd, more familiar than others... was that Thea Queen? Short dress, high heels, stumbling along the sidewalk like a broken deity on a lost track.

Definitely Thea Queen.

Her group of friends shuffled her between them; Thea could barely stand on her feet. She smiled, laughed, but Felicity _knew_ that wherever they were taking her was a place she didn't need to be.

She veered her Mini over to the curb, ignoring the angry honking cars behind her and quickly got out.

"Hey!" Felicity marched up to Thea and the others. "Where do you think you're taking her?"

She reached out after Thea, steadying her. Thankfully the young woman held on.

"What's it to you?" A young guy in skinny jeans cocked his chin at Felicity. "You her mother or something?"

Felicity hesitated, then said confidently, "I'm a friend of Oliver Queen. Who would _not_ be happy to see his baby sister like this."

Another guy snickered. "Yeah, we all know Oliver Queen's got lots of _friends_..."

"Look," the first guy smiled, a smile that was more a _sneer_ and made something beneath Felicity's skin crackle. "We're just taking her away. Know what I'm saying? To where the _real_ fun takes place."

Felicity ground down on her back teeth. "If you so much as _think_ of taking her somewhere..."

"Hey!"

A new voice rang out from behind them, deep and _sure_.

"How about you retards actually listen to Blondie."

Felicity watched the approaching guy, firm jawline and eyes clearly stating _you don't want to mess with this. _He stopped behind the group, pushing his hands down into the pocket of his red hood.

"All of you," he said warningly. "Scatter. Queen's going home without you."

The group of friends—two young guys and girls looking like they jumped straight out of a Cosmo magazine—exchanged wary looks. After a silent debate they cocked their heads and laughed, telling Felicity she was more than welcome to try and handle the billionaire princess. A moment later they ran around the corner, while Felicity swallowed an acrid feeling rising from her stomach to her throat.

So much for friends…

Thea swayed out of Felicity's grip - the red-hooded guy was there in a second, steadying her.

"Thanks," Felicity breathed. "My car's right over there," she indicated.

He got the message and jogged over, opening the passenger door. They both got the nearly unconscious Thea into the seat, who lulled back, something very far away in her look; counting stars in an imagined sky.

Felicity closed the door. "I'll take it from here. I'll call her brother, make sure she gets home safe."

She just wasn't certain _where_ to take her. Rolling up outside Queen Mansion with a nearly decked-out Thea Queen in her car hardly seemed like her best option.

No. She would take her home, _her_ home, call Oliver and have him pick her up from there.

Next to her, the red-hooded guy moved weight between his feet. The city lights blinked in red and gold and white around them.

"You really a friend of Oliver Queen's?" he asked.

"Yeah," Felicity nodded. "But not _that_ sort of friend. You know."

His eyes glinted with amusement, but he didn't say anything.

"Hey." Felicity looked between Thea and the young man. "What's your name?"

"I'm nobody, but... Roy. I'm Roy."

"Thanks for your help Nobody But Roy."

Roy smiled and a kindness Felicity liked appeared in him.

His voice was a little softer than before. "I don't like seeing girls getting in trouble... even if they _are_ snooty brats."

Felicity sensed there was more to the story, more she didn't know. Especially considering the way Roy kept looking into the car, keeping his eyes on Thea. He finally looked back at Felicity, his voice lower than before.

"Please make sure she gets home safe."

Said and done.

Felicity took Thea with her home. Once she rolled up outside her house, she eased her Mini into park slowly. Thea's eyes were closed in the passenger seat, so Felicity got out, unlocked her door before helping the stumbling young woman into her house. Thea rested against the arm rest in the living room couch as Felicity scrambled around arranging the guest bedroom, putting out one of her old t-shirts—hardly something a sober billionaire would approve of, but maybe something a mostly-out-of-it billionaire wouldn't have energy to argue against—and a glass of water next to the bed. When she was done Felicity helped Thea up the stairs, making sure she drank some of the water before she got into bed.

Felicity stood outside the door when she scrolled through her contact list after Oliver's number.

He didn't answer, but she left him a message on voice mail.

* * *

Oliver knocked on Felicity's door a little before seven in the morning.

Felicity answered, wrapped in a ruffled purple patterned pajamas and a sleepdrunk haze. If Oliver hadn't been so worried about Thea, he would have thought she looked a lot like the young girl he'd once known, possibly the cutest thing he'd seen since coming back from the island.

But right now he was more worried about another young girl...

"I got your voicemail," he said urgently. "Is she alright?"

Felicity nodded. "She's sleeping. Come on in."

Oliver walked into Felicity's house, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. He'd been out all night as The Vigilante, trying to keep the city safe. Little had he known it was his_ sister_ who needed saving last night. The guilt and shame felt like a weight on his back; he wanted to sit down and tell Felicity right then and there why he hadn't heard her voice mail until now, why he hadn't been there for Thea sooner… maybe she could help him understand why he kept trying to save the _wrong_ people.

Instead Oliver followed Felicity into the kitchen as she put on a pot of coffee. He tried leaning against the wall but couldn't keep still; his fingers kept rolling invisible arrows.

"I checked on her before I got down here," Felicity told him, pulling out fresh orange juice from the fridge. "She's sleeping pretty peacefully. Thought it'd be better for her to sleep it out instead of waking her."

Oliver nodded, but his index finger kept rolling against his thumb. "What happened?"

"Well. Seems like she had a little _too much_ fun last night… and I don't mean in a dirty way, but more in a _oops I drank half the bar_ way. I was driving home from work and saw her and some friends outside Azure. They were trying to pull her with them somewhere, God knows where... and I couldn't just stand by, you know? So I got out. I got help getting her into my car, was too scared to go to your house so I brought her home. I called you as soon as her head hit the pillow."

She saw the muscle in Oliver's jaw tick. His eyes were stern and he held himself like all of him was in _pain_.

"Hey," she said softly, putting her hand on his arm. "She's alright. Really, she is. I mean, other than she'll probably be hungover like crazy when she wakes up."

Oliver's eyelids sank. They were a little lighter when he lifted them, looking at her.

"She'll be alright... because of you."

Felicity smiled, one-sided. "Girls got to look out for each other. Right?"

Oliver nodded, but had a hard time shaking a bitter feeling on the back of his tongue. He'd been on the flipside, years ago. The kind of guy women should be looked out for, kept _from_.

"Thank you, Felicity."

She smiled softly, pressing her hand against his arm before walking back over to the fridge. "Does Thea like pancakes?"

Oliver's eyes filled with a little light. "Yeah. She does."

"Great. How about… she's in the guestroom, second door to the right, upstairs. See if she's awake and I'll get started on pancakes."

On his way up the stairs, Oliver looked around, briefly, noticing how most of the walls in Felicity's house were only decorated with artwork. Walls that, typically in a house like hers, should have been decorated with photographs of happy family memories... they just _weren't_. He'd seen some photo frames in her living room, but here, nothing.

He supposed it helped to have a family you felt warmly about in the first place. A family that wasn't perpetually wounded, a little less than complete, always.

Maybe one day they'd be able to understand their parents' choices, but until then they had to make the best of their own.

* * *

"I can't remember the last time I had pancakes," Thea said between bites of freshly made pancake off the stove. Oliver sat on her right, watching her with light in his eyes, while Felicity poured fresh batter into the pan.

"Chocolate chip, too," Oliver said, emptying his coffee cup. What he lacked in sleep he made up for in amount of coffee.

Felicity turned off the heat to the stove. "Sorry I ran out of syrup. I'll make sure to stock up next time I…"

Her phone went off, a shrill tone that startled and nearly made her fling the pancakes to the floor. Oliver leaned over to the raised bar and handed Felicity her phone.

She walked into the living room, and from the words they caught it was clear it was work-related. Some IT disaster, some malfunctioning system that no amount of reboots could fix. Felicity sighed and put her phone down.

"I have to go in," she said tiredly. "Right now."

"What's the matter?" Oliver asked, refilling his coffee cup to half.

"Apparently, my so-called supervisor thought it would be a neat idea to join twenty servers in a joint share point group—which is do-able, by the way, it's not that—but he didn't bother to set restrictions so now the network's stuck in an endless transfer loop, and…" She paused, locating her jacket and car keys on the living room table. "It's _bad news. _If I don't go in and fix it, the entire building can kiss their backups goodbye." She strode over to Oliver, handing him a set of keys. "These are my spares. You two can lock up, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "We'll lock up."

Thea turned on her chair before Felicity walked away. "Felicity. Thank you for—"

Felicity's phone went off again. Pursing her lips, Felicity counted to three before saying, "I'm so sorry, but I really have to go. We'll talk later!" She dashed out the door, car keys in one hand and her phone in the other.

Oliver glanced at Thea before swallowing his last bite of pancake. "Looks like you'll have to thank her later."

"I will," Thea agreed. She stabbed her fork into a chunk of pancake, looking curiously up at her brother who looked around the house. "So… the two of you. You and Felicity. Are you in some kind of relationship you've conveniently forgotten to tell your sister about?"

"No," he chuckled. "We're not. Just a… friendship relationship." Oliver shifted on the chair at Thea's raised eyebrow. "We went to the same school. Then Felicity moved away, and now… she's back."

"Mhmm."

"What?"

"You got that look on your face," she said warmly. "One I haven't seen, since… well, I can't remember, but certainly not since you got back." She nudged her elbow into his arm. "_Ollie. _Is there something going on your sister really definitely should know about?"

"No," he answered too quickly. "Well…" He looked at his watch, standing from the table. "If we don't leave, we're going to be late for the lunch we promised Mom we'd be home for."

"Ugh." Thea frowned, putting her fork down. "Don't remind me."

"Come on, Speedy. Time to put your feet where your nickname is."

Oliver ducked before a piece of pancake barely missed his head.

* * *

That afternoon Thea came to see Felicity at work.

She found her in her corner office, pink pen in mouth and working intently between stacks of papers and interconnected computers.

"Felicity?"

Felicity jumped; Thea jumped, gravity caught them both.

"Sorry," Thea said slower. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Thea, Miss Queen. Hi! No, that's fine… I only need to..." Felicity looked at her hopeless amount of paperwork, the running systems on her computer. She'd managed to salvage the situation half an hour after arriving to work, but now there were heaps of collateral damage to deal with. She looked from her screen up at Thea, eyes bright. "You know what? I could actually use a break."

Thea reached inside her purse as Felicity moved a heap of paper left. She held out a set of keys.

"My brother wanted to return these, but I convinced him to let me do it." Thea smiled softly, and for a moment, her age crept through. "I wanted to thank you, Felicity. Not everyone would do what you did for me last night."

"They should." Felicity winced. "I mean, not load random girls into their cars with the help of handsome red-hooded men, but, you know. Help each other... out. What I'm trying to say is, you're welcome."

Thea narrowed her eyes. "'Handsome red-hooded men'…?"

"Oh, right. A Roy helped me get rid of your... friends."

The name seemed to register with her. Thea looked thoughtful a moment, a line that came and went past her brow, before she saddled the thought away. She reached into her bag again.

"Here," she said, handing Felicity a thin white envelope. "That's a stocked gift card at Jimmy Choo. I'm pretty sure you could fill up more than half a wardrobe using that."

"I love shoes. But..." Felicity looked at the envelope, holding it hesitantly between her hands. She looked up. "This wasn't why I helped you, Thea."

"Oh, come on." Thea moved restlessly. "You know my last name, right? Everyone who helps our family wants to get _something_ out of it."

Felicity didn't respond; she looked _hurt_. Her eyelids seemed heavier; her eyes fluttered down to the envelope. She pressed her lips together, before looking up at Thea, eyes clear and strong.

"Did Oliver tell you I lived in Las Vegas?"

"It never came up," Thea said flippantly.

"Well, I did." Felicity blinked quickly a few times, speeding through her mental memory roll. "I waited tables for a while because I needed the money. When you spend that much time in casinos, after a while you learn to see who comes in to have fun, who comes in because they think they can _win_ something, and those who go too far."

She had Thea's attention. The younger woman's expression was slightly strained, like a person who doesn't like hearing a story but listens because they know they need to hear it.

"The casinos usually throw those people out. Get rid of them. Find a way to not make it their problem anymore. Once they're thrown out, the rest is up to them."

Thea scoffed. "So you're saying I shouldn't get thrown out of bars?"

"No, I'm saying maybe you should understand why you get drunk before you do."

Thea looked struck, passive a moment before her eyes brimmed with emotion. She held her own body, one foot forward, raising her chin a little.

"People don't _talk_ to me like that." Despite her words, there was surprisingly little venom in her voice. "Can't you just say you don't like Jimmy Choos?"

Felicity went on. "Some times people help other people out because it's the right thing to do. There's so much _bad_ in this world, Thea… the reward becomes knowing you helped contribute to the good."

Felicity handed back the envelope. Thea took it, looking at the thin envelope that would never again remind her of shoes. She waited a long moment before she turned.

"Actually," Felicity said, before Thea walked away. "If I could have something?"

Thea let out a breath. _Great_. Here came the part she'd been waiting for, where Felicity asked for something, after all, figuring she did have Thea Queen in her office. Why not take advantage of the situation?

She sighed. "Sure."

"I'd like a promise."

Thea stared.

"Promise me you won't go out tonight. You could… you can come by my place? I do have an excellent storage of nail polish. And Netflix. And I also happen to have a small but excellent stock of ice cream that needs to be eaten, like, yesterday."

At first, Thea stood very still. Then, slowly, her cheeks warmed into a smile. There was something so disarming about this woman, something Thea felt she liked, could relate to…

"You know what?" she said positively. "Sure. Why not."

"Excellent," Felicity smiled, sweeping the pen in her hand through the air.

"How does seven sound?" Thea offered. "I'll be the teenage delinquent knocking on your door with a bottle of vodka."

Felicity's turn to stare.

"Kidding."

"Right," Felicity nodded, laughing on delay.

"I'll see you tonight, Felicity."

"Will do."

Felicity smiled, watching Thea walk out of the office.

Maybe she couldn't right wrongs like The Vigilante was trying to do, but what Felicity _could_ and would do was be a friend to someone who needed one as much as herself.

* * *

Oliver brought it up next week during lunch. Sitting in Felicity's office, the two of them shared lunch Oliver brought with him. She was engrossed in hers, so she missed the way Oliver kept looking at her, waiting for her to look up.

"What have you done to my sister?" he asked sharply.

Felicity looked up from her salad bowl. "I – I don't really know what…"

"She's started reading again. Last night when I came home she was reading, in the study. I haven't seen Thea sit down with a book since kindergarten."

Felicity's eyes filled with mirth. "I might have loaned her a book or two."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Wow." Oliver paused, his eyes softening. "Felicity, you really are remarkable."

Felicity looked up, baby spinach sticking out between her lips. "Thank you for remarking on it."

Oliver smiled and in that moment it felt like summer came into the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:** Thank you to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing this story. I hope to be able to get back and respond to reviews during the week, but until then know that you give me fuel to keep going.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**V. **

It wasn't until The Vigilante showed up bleeding on her doorstep that Felicity _really _started to care.

She arrived home after a long day at work, the cold autumn winds biting at her cheeks. Her so-called supervisor had approved a proposition to upgrade all their servers, which meant their team worked overtime to back up all information before making the move to the new servers. Servers that needed adjusting to QC protocol, landing them with next week to get it done within the set time frame, not to mention…

A man stirred in the shadows next to her front door.

"Whoa!"

Felicity jumped back, a hand to her chest.

"Listen Mister, I don't know _what _you're up to but you are seriously wigging me out right now." She looked down, noticing the blood on the wooden planks. "_Oh_."

Felicity bent down as the figure shuffled toward her, casting his green hood in yellow porch light.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Felicity," he wheezed, his breath sounding choked, and, she felt it before her mind registered it, _familiar_.

"How do you know my name?"

Felicity reached out, pushing the hood back from the man's face.

_Oh boy_.

The realization was electricity through her body, but when it fizzled logic soon replaced it. Oliver was hunched over and huddled together, his chest soaked by a deep maroon that seemed to keep coming…

She knew exactly what that maroon liquid was.

"Oliver…" She touched his chest, but pulled her hand back when he winced. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," he said resolutely. "Felicity. I need you to call my driver, Diggle. Tell him to get here with medical supplies."

"Oliver, you're going to need more than supplies—you'll need a whole _cart_."

"Felicity. _Please_."

It was a good thing Oliver's phone ran out of battery a week ago and he had to borrow her phone to call his driver/bodyguard, because watching Oliver writhing in pain now, bleeding out on her porch, Felicity didn't think he'd have the time it took her to find Diggle's number.

Felicity made the call, telling Diggle where Oliver was, _how_ he was, her address. She scrambled with her keys after she finished the call, opening her door and, his arm across her shoulder, hauled Oliver's heavy body into her house.

_Just_.

She managed to get him inside before he collapsed.

"Oliver!"

She grasped the back of his green jacket, pulling at the hood, stained with blood she wasn't entirely sure was all his. His pulse was weak but _there_. Sense kicked in, propelling her to collect warm water in a large bowl, together with cotton, antiseptic, all those useless things she knew wouldn't save his life but might _help_, somehow.

She sat on the floor by his side until Diggle arrived. He burst through the door, a large medical box and a square metal suitcase in hand.

"I – I don't know what happened, I swear," she stuttered. "He just showed up on my doorstep, _bleeding_, and I think he's shot, and…"

Diggle only nodded before checking on Oliver. After a moment Diggle turned to her, a stern expression that meant all business.

"Felicity, I need you to go out and get the case from the back of the car."

Her eyebrows pulled together. "Shouldn't we get him to a hospital?"

Diggle shook his head. "Hospitals ask too many questions. The case contains a supply of blood bags—Oliver's blood." He checked Oliver's pulse. "Judging from the look of things… we're going to need every last one."

* * *

The day Felicity realized Oliver's driver/bodyguard wasn't really either was the day things changed in Felicity's life.

They placed Oliver on Felicity's living room table, as Diggle worked his way to save him with her help. He managed to extract the two bullets from Oliver's body, jumpstart and steady his heartbeat and get enough of his own blood into him that Oliver's system eventually ran on its own again.

Hours later, he was still unconscious.

Felicity walked around in her own house like a misplaced ghost, until she accepted there was no way she'd be able to sleep, so she might as well do something. She grabbed Oliver's suit, washed it as well as she could. (Google articles on how to remove blood stains helped.) She threw some of her own laundry into the machine, just to have something to do, keep her hands busy while her mind _raced_.

A few hours after midnight, Felicity headed out into her kitchen. She hadn't spoken to Diggle for nearly an hour; he'd busied himself with checking on Oliver every ten minutes.

She walked out of her kitchen, coffee cup in hand. She handed it to Diggle.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm all out of cocoa."

Diggle's face softened a little when accepting it. He took a long, deep drink of coffee before motioning around Felicity's living room.

"Nice place you got here," he told her honestly.

"Thanks." Felicity pulled the throw around her shoulders tighter. She bit down on her lower lip. "So. How long have you known that..."

"That Oliver is The Vigilante?" He looked at her. "Nearly two months, now." He took another drink, then chuckled briefly. "Oliver thinks he's doing a good job covering up, but that's far from the truth."

"You help him with that."

"Among things." Diggle turned to her, looking at her with a soft expression. "How you holding up?"

"I'm okay."

Diggle looked between her and Oliver's unconscious body on her living room table.

"You don't seem all that surprised," he said, matter of fact.

Felicity shook her head, moving blonde hair about. "Oliver's been coming to me for the last month… we'll eat together, lunch, dinner, but occasionally he'll ask me to look something up for him. There's been way too many matching pieces for it to all be a coincidence." She snorted, "I may be blonde, but I'm not _that_ blonde."

Felicity and Diggle exchanged knowing glances, smiling in the absurdity of it all.

She went and returned from the kitchen with a chicken sandwich she handed Diggle. He thanked her, sitting down by the table on the other side of the bar as Felicity started folding laundry on her kitchen counter.

"Oliver told me you were childhood friends," Diggle said.

"Yeah," Felicity nodded. "We met in school and kind of fell into friendship, I guess. Then when I was fifteen, I moved to Vegas." She stopped folding laundry a moment, looking into the living room, at where Oliver lay still on the table. "That's how I know that, what Oliver's doing… there's a reason for it."

"The people he's killed," Diggle stated.

Felicity's eyes were still on Oliver. "The kind of good there was in him is still _there_. The kind of good heroes need."

Diggle snorted. "Pretty sure Oliver thinks of himself as anything but a hero."

"Yeah. Not now. He has to choose who he wants to be. It's up to him."

Diggle watched Felicity fold together another piece of wash. He was starting to see why Oliver spoke so highly of this girl.

"You know, you don't have to be part of this life if you don't want to." Diggle waited until she looked at him over the bar counter. "But I'm pretty sure Oliver would welcome having you on. Think about it."

He gave her a meaningful look before he checked on Oliver again.

* * *

Felicity intended to call in sick to work, but in the morning Diggle convinced her there wasn't much she could do home anyway. Oliver was steady; he would keep a watch on him.

Diggle also asked if she was alright with having him stay in her house. There were probably eleventy reasons why she shouldn't let a man she'd only _met_ a couple of times do that, but if Oliver trusted this man with his secret, with his _life_, then Felicity trusted him too. So she went into the office for a few hours in the afternoon, helped where she could, left instructions for what needed to be done with the servers, then left QC early. Called Diggle on her way home, asked if he was hungry, if Belly Burger was fine (it was) and bought some on her way home.

They ate their burgers together, spent the rest of the evening checking on Oliver while Felicity kept herself busy. Things like washing the sink three times, washing every piece of clothing she'd used since it was last washed, sorting her bookshelf alphabetically…

Until Oliver woke with a cough.

A book nearly fell from Felicity's hand, but she grabbed the shelf and steadied herself. Diggle went to Oliver and Felicity approached slowly, arms wrapped around her upper body.

"Hey," Oliver croaked, looking between them sluggishly. "So I almost died. Again."

Diggle shook his head. "How many of lives are you going to use up, man?"

Oliver closed his eyes; the light hurt his eyes. "Hopefully there's still a few left."

Slowly he opened them again and turned, facing Felicity, looking straight into her eyes.

"Hey you," he said in a raspy voice.

In spite of everything, she smiled. "Hey yourself."

Oliver's lip softened before he turned his face back. He closed his eyes and sank into himself.

And for the first time since she discovered him shot-up and bloody on her porch, Felicity breathed deeply again.

* * *

He rested another hour. Felicity prepared something for him to eat, something simple, a sandwich and water. She remembered the sandwiches he liked when they were younger, but in spite of all the lunches they'd shared sandwiches had never been a thing, so she'd pulled out nearly all ingredients from her fridge… only to end up making ham and cheese. Her fingers had finally stopped shivering.

Diggle entered, gently putting his hand on her arm. Felicity took that as her cue.

Oliver stood by one of the windows in her living room, her deep grey throw around his shoulders. He'd been lucid less than an hour, but was vigilant even now. Not for the first time Felicity wondered about that island, what happened to make him this way... but other things were important right now.

Like being alive.

Oliver turned, facing her with a calm expression. "You must have a lot of questions," he stated, his voice slightly rough around the edges.

Felicity pressed her hands into her elbows. "Only one. How are you feeling right now?"

"Shot. I'll be alright." He looked over to where her carpet lay by the door, rolled together. "Sorry for bleeding out on your carpet."

"That's alright," she said flippantly. "I never much liked it anyway. I bought it on a sale, years ago, because I thought it might look nice when daylight came in through the windows, but…"

"I should have told you."

Felicity stopped.

"I should have told you," Oliver repeated. "I owe you my life, Felicity."

Felicity rubbed her hand down her neck. What did you _say _to something like that?

"You're welcome," she finally managed. "Thought maybe you'd filled your dying quota already. I didn't want you to max it out."

He smiled, appreciating her morbid humor.

"What you did practically makes you a member of the team," he said, walking to her.

"The team," she echoed.

His gaze was steady. "Would that be something you're interested in?"

Felicity pressed her lips together, before answering honestly, "I don't know. However... Mr. Diggle said you could use someone to look at the computer system you've got set up…"

Oliver shot Diggle a glance, standing in the open kitchen door, a silent _harrumph_ for the dig at him. Diggle only smiled, looking to Felicity.

"I want to see your base of operations. Lair, stronghold, cave… whatever you call it. I'm not saying I'm in - not yet - but I can at least set up a better system for you. Honestly," she chuckled, "I'm curious to see just how bad it is right now."

Oliver shared another look with Diggle, who clearly wasn't against the idea. He shrugged. It was up to Oliver.

"Okay."

* * *

Felicity spent an hour exploring the lair in the basement beneath Verdant. She inspected The Vigilante's bow, the arrows lined up in neat rows, all the equipment lying messily around the lair, ranging from fried-out hard drives to empty arrow containers.

When she saw the computer equipment her soul _ached_; she told them as much. She didn't hesitate to add a comment about just how awful the set-up really was, comparing it to the bad part of the 80s, all while Oliver tried ignoring the amused looks he kept getting from Diggle. Felicity asked them to give her the morning and afternoon; she would have everything set up better by then. Oliver told her to let lose, do anything she saw fitting. He needed to get home, see his mother and sister before they started asking too many questions.

He returned the same evening to a different lair than how he left it.

Everything was… neater. Cleaner. Organized. The computers were switched out, upgraded, now standing evenly on tables and set up with unscrupulous alignment. His weapons, arrows, all of it was distributed evenly. Everything seemed lighter.

"I took some liberties," Felicity explained, as Oliver walked around looking at everything like he saw it anew.

"Good job," he said with pride in his voice.

She smiled like a hint of spring.

Oliver looked around. "Where's Diggle?"

"I told him to go home hours ago. He hadn't slept for over forty-eight hours, Oliver."

The words Diggle told him about soliders not leaving one another in battle rang back in Oliver's mind, with more meaning now than on the first hearing.

He looked at Felicity, seated comfortably in front of the computers. It was difficult for him not to think how much it looked like she'd found her place, but, as with everything else, it was up to her. It was the only way he'd accept it; it had to be her choice.

Felicity took a deep breath and turned to face him. Her eyes were steady and clear.

"I'll help you find who shot you. I'll help you put them out of business. But, that's it. That's as far as my services go."

Oliver looked at her, stunned, but hoping his thankfulness splintered through the cracks. However, the thankfulness was hardened by an edge of wariness. There were reasons he hadn't wanted to bring her into this world...

He left the table and sank down on bended knees in front of her chair. She blinked and softly smiled; the protective teenager shone through the tough facade of the man he'd become.

"Felicity. I wanted you to be safe. I didn't want you finding out because knowing who I am puts you in danger—it makes you a target. That's what I wanted to protect you from."

Felicity reached out, gently putting her hand on his cheek. His eyelids shuddered, but he held on to her gaze like hope.

"Oliver. I wish you could hear yourself."

Her eyes were amused, not weighted down, and that surprised him. She found levity even in this matter. How had he managed to live without that for so long? Live without _her?_

"Did you want to protect me from you or the truth? I'm not a gilded flower, Oliver. I don't need to be kept safe."

Her hand went back to her lap, but their connection remained. They didn't need touch to stay connected.

"Knowing you is always going to put me in danger. It's _my_ life, Oliver. It's my choice."

Oliver reached out. He pressed their hands together, hoping she felt all he couldn't say. Felicity pressed back before she stood and walked over to the touchscreen monitors by the side. Oliver closed his eyes for a long moment and let the uneven stream of his thoughts burn to static.

"Oliver, if I'm going to help you there are things I need to know."

He looked at her.

"To start with. Who shot you? And where? I don't mean where on you, but where in the city where you shot? The sooner I know, the sooner I can start tracking this bad guy down." She turned to the computer screens.

That's how she missed the flinch that came and went past Oliver's face.

"It's not going to be that simple," he said.

Felicity slowly turned. She saw how set his jaw was, how he held his hands fisted by his sides. He ground down on his back teeth, looking quickly away. A bad feeling stirred in her stomach.

"Oliver," Felicity repeated. "Who shot you?"

He looked back at her and the starkness of his expression made her cold inside.

"Tommy."


	6. Chapter 6

**IV.**

Everything went very still in the Foundry. Felicity could hear herself breathing, watching Oliver mutely, until she finally couldn't take the silence.

"Why would Tommy shoot you?" Hands digging into elbows, she stared at Oliver.

"He didn't shoot me. He shot the Vigilante."

Her lips parted a little as she wrapped her mind around the information. But there were too many pieces that didn't fit together, too much information supposed to bridge those pieces that she just didn't have, just didn't _know._

"I mean," she added, "I know he's always had a quick temper, but there's a difference between that and being trigger happy." She'd been walking around, but now came to stand still. The Foundry felt colder than before. "Why would Tommy shoot the Vigilante?

"Because for the past few weeks he's been keeping track off some delivery trucks that's turned up at Merlyn Global's vicinities at the harbor. Always on Tuesdays, always after midnight."

"Did you find out what was in those trucks?"

Oliver looked at her from half-hooded eyes. He hesitated before speaking the next, which, for as long as she'd known Oliver, was never a good sign. That was the way he'd acted before he told her he'd just fought with his father, back when they were teens, the heavy look that came before saying something that needed to be said but you didn't like to say.

"People," Oliver stated. "Teenagers and adults."

Felicity's eyes widened. She'd been expecting drugs, maybe weapons, at worst… her arms went tightly around her chest.

"Why?" Her voice was slightly hoarse. "What does he need all those people for?"

"I don't know, Felicity. I'm trying to find out. There weren't that many of them—only four or five—but I got them away from Merlyn's men by putting arrows in them. Guns started going off, so I got them in the truck and told them to get the hell out of there. The bullet through my shoulder happened after that."

For a moment Oliver's head sank between his hands, as he shook it.

"I tried talking to him," he added. "Get him to listen to me."

"Tommy," Felicity clarified.

"But he wouldn't listen to the Vigilante. Which is why I'm going back there… tonight. I need to_ try_ talking to him. I know there's a part of him that listens. I need to reach that part."

Felicity walked over, sitting down in front of the computers. Oliver watched her rapidly bring up several command windows in a matter of seconds, news feeds, camera feeds of the club above them.

"I'll round up video footage," she said. "See if I can trace the truck and find out what happened to those people."

Oliver nodded. "Good."

Felicity turned in the chair. "Do you want me call Diggle? If Tommy's become all that gun-happy, maybe it's not your best idea to go there on your own..."

"No," he said resolutely. "This is a trip I need to make alone."

* * *

Oliver arrived outside Merlyn Mansion that evening, when the last trace of day was a blood orange speck on the sky. Instead of knocking on the front door he invited himself through one of the many, easily-accessible windows. He climbed into the mansion library, found his way out into the corridors until he eventually made it to Malcolm's study.

Tommy was inside, hunched over paperwork on the mahogany table. A light from the desk lamp cast his face in a tawny tint, but dark lines across his brow revealed a focus on his work.

The darkness didn't disappear when he saw Oliver standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, hands flat against the table surface.

Oliver walked into the study, hands pushed down the pockets of his jeans. He held himself strong, without letting evidence of his wounds congeal. He needed strength for this, the kind of immune strength Bratva Captains possessed.

Good thing he was one, then.

"Thought maybe you'd changed your mind," he said.

"I'm flexible when it comes to a lot of things. But letting a murderer in my house?" Tommy scoffed. "A man has limits."

Oliver walked further into the room, stopping behind the guest chair. "See you're hard at work."

"Yup. Got a company to run in my father's absence."

Oliver nodded. "How's that going for you?"

"Business's booming, if that's what you're asking. We're one Paris Hilton short of a proper billionaire empire."

Oliver nearly smiled. "Sounds like you're fitting right in."

Tommy signed the bottom of the top paper, before shuffling them aside. "It's something to do. To take your mind off other things. You know. Like the people you love not being there anymore."

Oliver clenched his jaw, sterilizing himself from the hurt of the jab. Some of the stale darkness from inside came into his eyes, and he looked at Tommy from a hooded gaze.

"I didn't come here to fight, Tommy."

He smiled beguilingly. "Unless you leave, that's what you're going to get."

"I was hoping we could talk."

"Talk." His eyebrows danced up and down. "We still have phones. You'd be surprised how far cellular technology has come in just a few years." Tommy stood from behind the text. "Now, get the _hell_ out of my house."

"Tommy. Come on, man. We used to be best friends—wingmen for life, remember?"

Tommy shook his head. "Wingmen don't go sleeping with each other's girlfriends behind their backs."

"Damn it, Tommy!" Oliver slammed his hands down on the back of the chair. "We weren't sleeping—"

"Hey, Oliver," Tommy interrupted in a tone that coiled a string inside Oliver. The smile didn't make_ anything_ better. "How's Felicity?"

"Leave her out of this. This is between you and me."

Tommy continued smiling. "Maybe I should screw her and we can call it even?"

Oliver let his guard down just a moment, trying to find reason in the situation again. He dragged a hand across his mouth, looked away…

That was his mistake.

Tommy threw a punch at him, strong and fast; Oliver barely managed dodging it. Tommy moved at him and threw another, one Oliver dodged easily.

But then… something changed. Tommy slowly turned and took stock of Oliver, who recognized the look in Tommy's eyes. He'd seen it on the face of men in Hong Kong fighting rings, the coldness of the Russian mob members—a stoic framed look settling into the cold stillness before an attack.

Which he did, again.

Tommy was fast. His lighter body made his punches quicker, dodging faster. Oliver was stronger but strength was only useful when there was actually something to punch.

Oliver felt Tommy's knee connect with his side, the shooting searing pain of bones being broken.

"Come on!" Tommy shouted. "Why aren't you fighting back? At least _try_ to hit me."

But Oliver retracted, kept dodging Tommy's blows, side-stepped his every kick, punch. Finally, he had enough. Lunging himself forward, he wrapped his arms around Tommy's body and violently smashed them both into the bookshelf behind them. Old dusty books were knocked out of place, smattering down to the floor in heaps around them.

Oliver pushed himself back, straightening up in front of him. "I don't want to fight you, Tommy! I came here to try and mend what's broken. We're better than this. We're stronger than our fathers made us."

But the look in Tommy's eyes was hard and cold. "My father's helped me become stronger than you'll ever be."

Oliver let out a long painful breath. There wasn't any light, any hope to the situation. So instead of trying to plead with this madness, Oliver left, a storm of rage and distress.

* * *

Diggle had joined Felicity in the Foundry by the time Oliver returned.

Felicity called him earlier, filled him in on what she could. She'd managed to trace the truck from Merlyn Global through video and then traffic camera surveillance, found out it made its way two miles out of Starling City before running out of gas. There they… disappeared. The truck was found empty the next day. The people, gone.

"Oliver's been following them for a while," Diggle told her. "It won't be the last truck to show up. Next time, we'll be there. We'll get them, Felicity."

Presently Oliver was leaning against the exam table, shirt off, checking his wounds. The bullet wounds were bleeding through; he was tending to them. The pain from his ribs was worse.

Diggle folded his arms against his chest. "He sure did a good job banging you up. You sure he hasn't had any fight training?"

"Nope," Oliver uttered, wincing from pain. "But, it's Tommy. He skipped so many P.E. classes, the only reason he didn't fail was because he bribed our coach."

"Licentiously bribed, you mean," Felicity interjected. She raised an eyebrow at Oliver. "Your coach was Ms. Seagle, remember? Young. Super pretty."

When Oliver didn't look like he followed, Felicity scoffed.

"Come _on_. There's got to be some memory of school you didn't drink away."

Diggle smiled and shook his head.

"Whatever Tommy did back in school is not the same as what he's doing now." He nodded to Oliver. "You became something else. What's to say Tommy didn't do the same?"

Oliver looked at Diggle. Hearing the straight-up truth from someone else wasn't easy, but he needed it. The years they spent apart… Oliver didn't know what Tommy had been up to. If he'd stayed here in Starling all the time, went somewhere else, became someone else… for everything he'd learned during his years away, there was still so much he didn't _know_. And he needed to hear it from someone else. He needed to ready himself for the possibility that his oldest friend might have become his enemy.

"We need to intercept the next delivery," he stated. "Find out where they're getting the people from. And why."

"I already checked Merlyn Global's shipping itinerary," Felicity said, "and they have nothing listed on Tuesdays after 6 pm. According to their schedules, they don't ship anything until next morning."

"We need to find out where they're getting people from," Oliver said resolutely.

Diggle nodded. "I'll pay a visit to the Glades. Do a little snooping around, see if I can find out if anyone's heard or seen anything." He pushed himself off the table. "I'm on it."

Oliver wanted to tell him not to go, that it was _his_ responsibility, but a sensible part of him knew he needed rest, get his strength back.

The next time he went out he was going to need it.

* * *

Later that evening, Oliver caught Felicity watching him sew up his bullet wound out of the corner of his eye. She stood with her fingers to her mouth to keep from saying anything. Her eyes were pressed together; she looked like she shared his pain.

He stopped sewing a moment, a memory through time drifting through. A moment of chasing each other across the school yard, of skidding in the gravel and scraping his knees. Felicity had followed him to the school nurse, didn't leave the room until the wounds were cleaned and patched up. After, she held his hand all the way to class. The first thing they did after school was have ice cream.

Oliver couldn't remember the flavor of ice cream they'd had, but he remembered the way she smiled at him, how it was the moment he _knew_ this girl would be his best friend.

He wasn't wrong.

The look she had on her face now was similar to the one she had, watching him getting patched up by the school nurse. Some things didn't change…

But others did.

Presently her eyes weren't on his knees. They were looking below his neck, where his marred skin was visible through his open shirt.

He glanced up to her. "It's only scars. They don't hurt anymore."

"But the memories do."

She walked over to him slowly, stopping in front of where he half sat on the exam table. Her hand started reaching, then hesitated.

"Can I see?"

He nodded.

She slowly slid the shirt off his shoulders. Her fingers traced the marred scar on his chest, travelling, feeling every visible one. Silently he watched her from a heated gaze.

"The first time I saw these you were unconscious on my coffee table. I thought, wow. What's he been through to get those? Looks like somebody ran him over with a lawnmower."

Even facing his scars, she made him smile. He blinked slowly. Only Felicity.

"That's the thing about getting older," he said. "Scars take longer to fade."

She met his eyes. He wasn't just talking about physical scars, evidence of torture, but the kind of scars that remained entrenched in one's mental catacombs. Memories that _hurt_.

But memories were in the past and they were here and now. They were no longer heartbroken teens who thought the end of the world could be found in goodbyes.

"He hates me, Felicity."

She looked at him in a way that wasn't exactly disagreeing, but made it clear she didn't see it the way he did.

"I'm not so sure he _hates_ you… I think he likes to think he does. He's let his hate become a fuel. It drives him. Some people get so caught up in their hate that it becomes more about that bad feeling that drives them than whatever's the issue. When you've spent that much time hating something, it takes time to let go because when you do… you're also letting go of a part of yourself."

Felicity blinked a few times before looking at him with perfect blue clarity.

"When have you ever hated something," he said, thinking back on younger years where Felicity's temper flared up, but always eventually petered out. Even then, she was too full of hope to let herself be weighed down by heavy grudges.

"I haven't. But I know what it's like to love something a lot, and then lose it."

The even stream of his thoughts was crushed to dust as he looked at her. All he could see was her in front of him. He wanted to reach out, to do what, he didn't know, but to make it all better somehow. He wanted to give her a piece of him to make up for what she'd lost.

But she spoke before he could.

"Oliver," she asked softly, "Why did you go on the Gambit?"

He blinked. It hadn't crossed his mind… he'd been home for months, met up with Felicity half that time, and they still hadn't had this conversation. His eyes fell from her gaze a moment, as the official reason he'd told everyone—paramedics, police officers, investigators, media, people who asked but weren't close—came to mind. But he didn't want to tell Felicity what he'd told all those people. He'd told them the truth, but it was a rinsed version of the truth, what remained when everything that mattered had been cut away and all that was left were facts.

He'd been wanting to tell someone the truth, his own bleeding truth, for years.

So he took a deep breath and did.

"After you left… I wasn't doing so well. Tommy wanted to cheer me up. So we partied together, a lot, until weekends turned into months and years... the whole thing just went on and on. Kept going. No stop signs."

Oliver licked his lips and dragged a hand down his mouth. Felicity stood still, listening.

"I didn't have any idea what I wanted to do with my life. Didn't know why I_ should_ do anything. So I kept partying. That's how I met Laurel. We met at a party, started going out… it didn't last. After she had enough of my shit, enough of all my fuck-ups, she broke up with me permanently. And I never saw it happening—I was probably too drunk to notice—her and Tommy started going out. After a month they were more serious than her and I had ever been. They just… worked. Fit like a glove."

Felicity didn't say anything, just kept her eyes soft and understanding.

"Right around that time my mother wanted me to apply for college. Finally," he snorted, "she had enough, too. Told me I no longer had a choice—either I applied for college or I could find someplace else to live. And somewhere else to get my money from." His eyes looked at the floor; he saw the memory speed by his retinas when he blinked. "Then I heard my father was taking a trip, so I told her I'd try learning something about the family business, then apply for colleges when I got back.

"Then Laurel showed up at the harbor. Told me her and Tommy were serious, the real deal—she was on her way to surprise him. So I asked her if she wanted to catch a ride with us." He chuckled sardonically. "I asked my best friend's girlfriend, my ex, to come on a yacht with me." He shook his head. "I didn't even think about how it'd look to others.

"I was a coward, Felicity. I wanted to escape from everything. I asked Laurel to come with me so I wouldn't have to spend that much time alone with my dad—I was so afraid he might try to actually get me interested in the company—that I asked my best friend's girlfriend to come with me on a trip that ended up killing her." His eyes hardened. "The five years I spent away, the time on the island… that hell didn't come close to making up what I did to them."

His eyes pierced hers, then shame forced them away. She saw it before it happened; how he caved in on himself. His eyelids fell and his shoulders slouched, like he couldn't hold up the weight of everything that was and happened.

Felicity walked to him on even steps, putting both hands on his neck and pressing her lips to his forehead; a burning mark. He lowered his face, eyes closed, letting her warm compassion flow into him. But the layers he'd built around himself, his own self-protection, were many and tough to congeal.

When his eyes found hers again they were wounded. Her hands moved, thumbs smoothing over his jaw, his stubbled cheeks. She refused to let his gaze waver from hers, holding onto him like an anchor.

She let out a shaky breath. "After I left… I missed you. So much. But I was afraid."

Oliver blinked lightly a few times. Her hands slid from his face, resting lower on his arms, touching and leaving them like she couldn't decide where to ground herself. He reached out and grabbed both her hands. He could be her anchor, too.

Felicity stilled, all of her, and went on.

"I wanted to come back and see you, but managed to convince myself cutting ties would be easier. It wasn't. And after some time passed… I felt it wasn't _fair_ of me to contact you any longer. You'd moved on. I was trying to. So. I just never... did."

Her voice was fraught with emotion; listening to it, Oliver felt someone else's pain for the first time since he could remember.

"I was a coward too, Oliver. But the key's in past tense. I've made different choices since. I came back to Starling City, I chose to move on. I chose to become something else. Someone better." She looked unwaveringly into his eyes. "I found another way. Maybe you can do the same."

He blinked, letting her words sink into him like deep waves.

She reached, or he did, it didn't matter. Their arms reached for one another; he brought her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. He breathed deeply for long, slow moments where time became nothing but a concept and all that mattered was here and now. Darkness was all around them, but they were each other's light.

Oliver held her tightly and finally the tight and hurtful feeling in his chest that had been there since he was seventeen eased up.


End file.
